Great Artists Have No Country.

The Fumes Of Wine Fermented In My Head; It Was One Of Those Moments Of Intoxication When All That Ones Sees And Hears, Speaks To One Of The Adored.... One Would Willingly Embrace All Who Smile, And One Feels That He Is Brother Of All Who Live.

Romanticism Is The Abuse Of Adjectives

What I Need Is A Woman Who Is Something, Anything: Either Very Beautiful Or Very Kind Or In The Last Resort Very Wicked; Very Witty Or Very Stupid, But Something.

Life Is A Sleep, Love Is A Dream; And You Have Lived If You Have Loved.

With A Kiss Let Us Set Out For An Unknown World.